Kittens, Sunshine, and Love
by Ryuu - The Green Wonder
Summary: We all wish life was like this. If it was, then perhaps a simple Smasher accident wouldn't have mattered, or wouldn't have occurred. Rated for violence/cursing, character death


**A/N: **Urg, I had been working on this but I think this chapter is too short, even if it _is _the prologue, and it's only meant to introduce the concept of the story. Hopefully you can enjoy it, anyhow. I _promise _the chapters after this one will be _much _longer.

I can't say anything else about this fan fic up here, or else I'll spoil something. So, just enjoy what you're reading, okay?

And yes, if anyone says anything, Luigi and Snake are _friends_. Or at least, I believe they are. After all, Snake just doesn't seem like the type of guy to support someone he doesn't know… right?

I apologize for any OOCness on Snake's part. I haven't played any games with him in them except for Brawl, and I don't like Brawl that much. Apologies again! All I know is the codec he says, and that he's a mercenary. I also get my info from other fan fictions and wikis. But of course, that's only third rate compared to the actual games, and I _know _that.

Okay I'm going to stop this author's note before it becomes tl;dr.

--

"I don't remember ever doing that."

"Doesn't _matter _whether or not you remember you did it – you did it, and you're going to get in trouble because of it."

Any conversation would seem harmless to a bystander, as long as one picked up only a fraction of the conversation. This conversation here definitely seems as innocent as any other with only those two paragraphs – it could be assumed as a mother scolding a child, or perhaps friends bickering amongst each other.

It's not as innocent as it seems.

"I'm _telling _you, I wasn't even in the stage. I wasn't anywhere near the stage he was fighting in."

"I'm the _Master Hand_; telling me who's in what stage isn't going to work. I know who fought in which stage at precisely what time."

"Then answer my question: was I anywhere near the stage?"

"That I don't know. All I know is you weren't _in _the stage."

"So you have no proof I did it."

A pause.

"No, I suppose I don't."

A fruitless attempt for the "friend" to expose any lies, wouldn't one agree? But even the other he had been arguing with was uncertain. He was uncertain of many things, and even though he said he didn't do it, the whole situation completely baffled him. He was in a trainwreck of emotions, mainly because of what _had _been done. Everyone was in a trainwreck of emotions. This situation wasn't expected amongst them – the crime that was committed was a sin beyond what everyone in the area could comprehend.

"I guess you may go, Snake." A giant hand seemed to magically float from the inn and left it behind without even a second "glance" back at whom he had originally been talking to. Eyes tracked him from where he had originally been "standing;" a mercenary, eyes narrowed, glared at the back of the hand. Other creatures of all sorts watched silently as the hand disappeared outside of the inn.

It was just then that a woman, wearing a pink dress, immediately burst into tears. A man, clad in red, with a large moustache, defining how large his nose was, stared blankly at the soldier.

The soldier approached the man. "I didn't do it," he insisted. "I swear I didn't."

"Then _who _did?" asked the man in a thick Italian accent. "Who could've done this?" He looked about ready to burst into tears himself – and it seemed, he had been crying a lot beforehand.

"It doesn't matter."

"Why _doesn't _it matter?"

"Look, Mario." The soldier put his hand on the plumber's shoulder, and the plumber glanced up, blue eyes moist. "This is the real world. It isn't all about kittens, sunshine, and love. People die."

The man, shoulders shaking, backed away from the soldier for a second. The woman stopped crying enough to see "Mario" swing his arm forward and slam his fist into the mercenary's face.

"Urg!" shouted the mercenary, backing away from the plumber. "What was _that _for?"

"He was your _friend_," Mario accused, backing away from him. "He was your _friend_, Snake. And you say it _doesn't matter_. You treat this like as if treating spilled milk. It _doesn't _work like that." The man started to get worked up, and it was obvious by how tears were starting to mist at his eyes. "You – you _disgust _me."

"I—"

"Don't give me any _excuses_ as to why you're like this. I had thought you changed. I gave you a chance. And you _blew it_. My respect for you has died."

The mercenary frowned. "I'm a soldier," he replied, trying to keep his voice even, even though his emotions were on a whirlwind and were tumbling around inside him out of control. He thought he had gotten rid of those emotions while training to fight. Apparently, this was not the case. "I'm meant to deal with situations like this. And I'm supposed to meet them without care. Is that so bad?"

"Yes it is. It means you're _heartless_," Mario answered angrily. Snake winced. "He was your friend, Snake – you just don't… _forget _about friends. You just don't – not… treat their deaths seriously. You don't _care_. Why don't you care? He was your friend."

"Stop repeating that!" Snake snarled. "How do you know he was such a great friend!? Huh?"

Silence.

"Answer."

Mario looked downcast, and the woman prepared herself to hug Mario, but the man simply turned away from the both of them, from all of the Smashers gathered around, glancing worriedly at each other. He looked over his shoulder for a second at Snake. "Maybe he wasn't a good friend to you," he whispered, his voice soft, all the rage in his voice replaced with sadness and grief. "But you were to him. And I know _that_. He liked your company – he told me so. I had never seen him so happy – feel so _accepted_. If it's a lie to you, then fine. But it wasn't a lie to him." He clenched his hands into fists. "And for a while, up until now, it wasn't a lie to me. Go, then. Be a big, fat liar."

"Mario—"

But it was too late. The mustachioed man ran off, dashing into the horizon, disappearing outside of the inn to a location unknown, the woman hot on his heels.

The mercenary stared hopelessly after Mario, wishing nothing more than to apologize.

But not to the mustachioed man.

He had no apologies for _him_.

_I'm sorry…_

_I'm __**so**__ sorry…_

_I wasn't lying. I was never lying to you._

_I'm sorry for knowing nothing, and for taking your friendship for granted, and for everything bad I've done to you and your brother – and how I wasted all of your efforts to make me have peace with him._

_I'm sorry, Luigi._

_I promise I'll figure this out, and I'll __**do **__something._

The conversation seemed so innocent on the outside. Some Smashers, upon walking into the inn, had thought the conversation could have been about Snake slipping on something and then messing up the kitchen or something else ridiculous. Snake hadn't been known to be the best Smasher in the world, either. But the conversation had nothing to do with an embarrassing incident. An _incident _it was, maybe, but it wasn't some flimsy incident about running into walls.

It was about who murdered Luigi, a fellow Smasher. Because nothing is truly innocent – nothing is truly kittens, sunshine, and love.


End file.
